by G. D. Penman
The low-light vision of Martin’s race kicked in, showing the world around him in dull shades of gray, but Dmitri must have been swinging blindly at shapes in the shadows.
Martin needed to stop reacting and start thinking. This wasn’t a brawl, it was a game, and he was good at games. The next time the Wulvan hefted his axe, Martin called his Celestial Strike and his sword burst into light. There was only one moment when the wolf-man was blinded, but in a fight, a moment was all it took.
Martin didn’t even try for a killing blow. Instead, he leapt between the knight’s legs. He rolled over the bloodied stone and came back up to thrust his sword into the wolf-man’s backside.
[CRITICAL HIT]
[Dmitri suffers 28 piercing damage]
The Wulvan threw back his head and howled. Apparently, the situation wasn’t funny anymore. Martin yanked his sword back out of the knight’s armor-free rump then took a step back.
“Are you ready to talk now?”
Evidently the answer was no. With a roar, the next flurry of attacks came, but what Martin had not realized in his initial panic was that the attacks were clumsy.
[MISS]
[MISS]
[Skaife BLOCKS 12 damage]
[MISS]
This was a new player, and the longer Martin observed him, the more he realized how badly this Dmitri was actually playing.
Martin ducked forward instead of backwards when the next swing came, inside the circle of the Wulvan’s arms and inside his defenses. He thrust his Copper Shortsword right into the Wulvan’s guts, then watched as the idiot’s health trickled away. It felt warm as it ran over his hand.
[Dmitri suffers 15 piercing damage]
Martin smirked as the less-than-noble knight toppled to the ground in a groaning heap.
Dmitri has died.
For a moment Martin lingered, considering trying to steal some of the knight’s gear, but on examination there didn’t seem to be any way for him to move things from dead players into his inventory. That was probably for the best; he wouldn’t want somebody murdering him and stealing his stuff, either.
With a shrug, Martin hurried back to dig Lindsay out of the wreckage, only to find her already staggering around the muddied and bloodied street, looking miserable.
“There you are! I thought dog-boy had buried some of you for later.”
“I’m afraid not. Neither of you were that lucky.”
She took another staggering step forward, then paused. “You ain’t got a healing spell or something handy, do you?”
Martin shook his head ruefully. “As a matter of fact, I figured I’d end up spending half my time in this game patching you up, so I picked one out especially for you.”
“You’re a gentleman.”
He concentrated on Healing Touch and lifted his hand towards her, but nothing happened.
“Huh. Hang on a second.”
He closed his eyes and opened up his abilities menu again, wondering if he’d remembered the name wrong.
Void Strike [10-second cooldown]
Withering Touch [60-second cooldown]
Unjust Curse [60-minute cooldown]
Martin froze for a moment. That was all wrong. What had happened? He pulled up his character sheet.
Skaife Murovan Shadow Templar
Strength: 4 Agility: 7
Endurance: 7 Willpower: 6
Health: 33/35 Stamina: 36/45
Level: 1 Sin: 1
Standard Attack Damage [Copper Shortsword]: 11-16
What was a shadow templar? That hadn’t even been an option in character creation. He opened his eyes only to see Lindsay peering at him with a concerned look on her face, which must have been hard to convey with a beak and no eyebrows.
“Sorry, the healing spell isn’t working just now. And… my class has just changed.”
“You can do that?” Lindsay cawed. “I didn’t know you could change mid-game. Show me how to do it. What did you change to?”
She seemed to forget all about her injuries as soon as there was something new to get excited about. A race of magpies was a perfect fit for Lindsay.
Martin sheepishly wiped blood off his sword onto his thigh. “I’m a shadow templar now, whatever that means.”
Lindsay was bouncing on the spot.
“So, what, have you got evil powers now?”
Martin concentrated, and an eerie red glow formed around his empty hand. His Withering Touch.
“Uh… yeah, it kind of looks that way.”
Lindsay was staring at his hand, wide-eyed. “Well, that is cool as hell.”
He stared into the blood-red light gathered around his little gray paw, marveling as it flickered and coiled around his fingers.
“I think it might be because I killed another player. Maybe this is the PvP version of my class?”
Lindsay had stopped bouncing. For the first time that Martin could remember, she was staying completely still.
“Well, I hope it works on monsters too.”
He turned around as slowly as he could manage. The Murovan deserters were back in force, and this time they looked neither pathetic nor defenseless.
Those that didn’t have pickaxes in their hands had armed themselves with wicked looking cleavers. Every last one of them was staring at Martin and Lindsay as if they were the ones who had just stomped into their home and slaughtered all of their friends.
Martin flexed his glowing fingers.
“Okay. Maybe we are meant to fight.”
Seven
Wrath of the Ratmen
The Murovan horde swept forward with their weapons held high. Martin was fairly confident that the lit torches near the back of the pack would have been accompanied by pitchforks if they weren’t so impractical for tunnel fighting.
Lindsay whispered, “What’s the plan?”
“Run!”
Martin turned tail and fled into the ramshackle town, dragging Lindsay along by a sleeve until she got her stumbling feet beneath her.
He didn’t look back, not when he could hear the chorus of squeaks and squeals right at their heels. They rounded a bend and almost plowed into the back of another posse of furious furballs.
With one hand trailing red light like it was smoke and the other clenched tight around the hilt of his sword, Martin spun, trying to take it all in. If they had both been in fighting form, he might have risked charging, trying to break through to escape and regroup, but there were just so many of them, and Lindsay already looked like a strong breeze would be enough to drop her. They needed an advantage.
He slapped the flat of his blade into the palm of his glowing hand.
“Up.”
“What?” Lindsay’s confusion only lasted a second before she sprang into action, putting a foot on his sword as he hefted her higher.
There was a brief, uncomfortable scramble as she moved her clawed feet from Martin’s sword to his head, and then launched herself up onto the roof behind him.
That was Lindsay out of harm’s way for now. Outside of combat, her health should regenerate; he just had to keep the heaving mass of enraged Murovan miners distracted long enough for it to make a difference.
He stood nose to nose with the other ratmen, feeling like he was on even footing for the first time since he’d fallen into Strata, and while they had filled the street on both sides of him, they were eyeing him warily instead of charging in. They were cowards; that was what the character creation text had said. Now he just needed to use that information.
“Who wants to be first?” he yelled.
It was hard to be intimidating when your voice came out in a wheezy squeak, but he was doing his best.
The crowd swayed, keeping their distance, eyes darting from side to side. That was fine; the longer they waited, the healthier Lindsay got. There was a bit of pushing and shoving among the squabbling mass, then one of them got ejected into the street in front of him.
It was a white-furred runt with a dagger in each hand, a dagger in i
ts teeth and a dagger wrapped in the tip of its tail. A knave. Or the NPC equivalent.
Knaves were designed to fight from an ambush, or at range. The best plan here was to meet it head-on. Martin tried for a grin, but his bared teeth probably looked more queasy than smug.
“Come on, then,” he snarled. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”
He dashed forward, leading with his blade, and the poor Murovan actually flinched, bringing every weapon at its disposal around to block Martin’s feigned sword thrust. His glowing hand darted in past its defenses.
[Tunnel Rat suffers 2 strength drain, 2 agility drain, 2 endurance drain]
The Murovan shriveled up under his touch, already-scant muscles wasting away as the vicious red light rushed over its pale fur in a wave. The daggers trembled right out of its paws and jaws as Martin sucked the life out of it and it became too weak to hold them anymore. He took a step back and swung with all his strength.
[Tunnel Rat suffers 15 slashing damage]
Tunnel Rat has died.
Skaife gains 180 experience.
Rabid Ratmen.
1/10 Murovan Deserters slain.
He flicked the blood from his sword, spattering it in the faces of the nearest Murovan and allowing himself to feel the beginnings of confidence despite the swarms of enemies just waiting to leap at his throat. This was just a game. He could do this.
“Who’s next?”
For one long silent moment, nobody moved. Then suddenly the tension in the air broke and the ratmen came pouring forward, wailing and squealing. The press of emboldened bodies in the back ranks drove the terrified-looking Murovan at the front towards Martin like a solid wall.
He probably would have felt some disgust about “his people” using each other as living shields, but he would probably have done the same thing.
They had the advantage of numbers, but they couldn’t press that advantage if they were worried about losing a couple of grunts. If they closed in on him, it would all be over. He needed more time.
When he darted forward, it wasn’t to kill, it was to maim. The closest Murovan squealed in terror at his approach and he swung low under their meagre defenses, scoring a line across their shins.
[Warren Warden suffers 3 slashing damage]
[Tunnel Rat suffers 4 slashing damage]
[Warren Warden suffers 3 slashing damage]
It wasn’t enough to do them any serious injury, but it was enough to trip them, and when the rank behind them kept on pushing forward, one whole side of the battle line collapsed into a complaining pile-up. Martin let out a little squeak of triumph.
[Skaife suffers 12 piercing damage]
That terrible numbness spread out from one sharp point in the middle of his back. Twelve damage was more than a third of his health, gone in a single hit. He spun around and managed to deflect the next pickaxe swing with a clumsy parry.
[Skaife BLOCKS 16 damage]
[Skaife suffers 16 stamina loss]
He had wondered why his abilities just had cooldowns and no resource costs. Most games would have made him pay stamina or mana to use every special ability, but all that Strata seemed to demand was time. Now he understood why.
The fighting here wasn’t some slow slog of grinding damage. It was brief and brutal.
Before he lost it in the class change, his Healing Touch might have restored all his lost health in an instant. But it would have seemed like an eternity before he could use it again when people died so quickly.
The black-furred miner who had been searching for minerals near Martin’s spine ducked back into the crowd before he had a chance to hit back, but there were plenty more enemies where that one had come from.
Two of them swung at Martin at the same time. Their picks hooked over the blade of his sword when he brought it up to parry.
[Skaife BLOCKS 12 damage]
[Skaife BLOCKS 14 damage]
[Skaife suffers 26 stamina loss]
[Skaife suffers 2 exhaustion damage]
Apparently, you could push your body past its limits here, but it would kill you. Martin wrestled to pull his weapon free before some opportunist hacked into his ribs, but the rat-men were nothing if not persistent, pulling back just as hard.
He reared back with all his strength, and suddenly the pressure was gone. Both pickaxes clattered to the ground at his feet as he stumbled back. In the place of his attackers there was a blood-streaked blur of feathers and steel.
[SNEAK ATTACK for double damage]
[Warren Warden suffers 38 piercing damage]
Warren Warden has died.
[SNEAK ATTACK for double damage]
[Warren Warden suffers 36 piercing damage]
Warren Warden has died.
Rabid Ratmen
3/10 Murovan deserters slain.
[Tesra suffers 2 environmental damage]
Lindsay rose to her feet amidst the carnage, cawing in victory with her bloodstained daggers held aloft.
“Iron Riot!”
She was going to get herself killed. Martin charged in, slashing wildly at the Murovan rushing into the gap behind her.
[MISS]
[MISS]
It was enough to give her a moment to jump clear. But Martin wasn’t sure how much more favorable their situation was when it was just the two of them, back to back in an ever-tightening circle of enraged Murovan deserters.
Whatever temporary distractions Martin had managed were forgotten, and the horde’s bravery seemed to be returning. Lindsay was a comforting weight at his back.
“Have knaves got any tricks up their sleeves for situations like this?”
She scoffed. “If you turn out the lights then I might be able to sneak attack again?”
Martin’s eyes narrowed. Celestial Strike had been bright enough to light the whole cave; what would its dark counterpart do? He held his sword up above his head and called on Void Strike.
Void Strike - Deals 6 physical and 6 dark damage to a single target on a successful hit. [10-second cooldown]
A tiny sliver of a black hole took the place of Martin’s sword, a black so dark that no light could escape it. A hole in the world.
The Murovan torches guttered and spat as the flames streamed towards him. It wasn’t enough to put the fires out, but it was enough to bring back the fear.
He heard the nearest rat-man squeal in terror, “Gods below!”
Hefting the weightless blade of darkness, Martin took a step forward and watched his enemies scatter before him. The Murovan, so brave just a moment before, went scampering for their burrows in the face of a little bit of magic. He slashed at the back of the closest one as it turned to run.
[Warren Warden suffers 6 slashing damage]
[Warren Warden suffers 6 dark damage]
It collapsed in a heap at his feet, but some fevered energy still drove it to scramble away. Martin kicked it over onto its back as it grunted and squealed. He could smell its blood, rich and cloying as a butcher’s shop.
“Why? You should help us, not killing us!” it wailed.
Martin paused, blade held ready to plunge into the rodent’s unprotected stomach.
“Why? Because I’m Murovan like you?”
“Because we both belong to Strata.”
Lindsay let out a yelp of distress behind him, so Martin hammered his sword down into the Murovan and spun away to help her.
[Warren Warden suffers 14 piercing damage]
Warren Warden has died.
Skaife gains 220 experience.
Rabid Ratmen
6/10 Murovan deserters slain.
Lindsay had been busy while he was distracted. She’d cut down a pair of the panicking rats before they’d made it more than a few feet, but now the rest were standing their ground.
It would be another few seconds before Martin could call on Void Strike to scare them off again, so it looked like they were back to fighting, on slightly more even terms.
In the midst of the crowd of Murovan, Li
ndsay moved like a blur of feathers, daggers flashing red in the torchlight.
[Warren Warden suffers 3 piercing damage]
[Tunnel Rat suffers 2 piercing damage]
[Pack Rat suffers 3 piercing damage]
[Warren Warden suffers 4 piercing damage]
Martin couldn’t even keep up with how fast she was going, but despite the flurry of strikes darting out from the knave, none of them seemed to be doing much more than stinging and startling the Murovan. Without the element of surprise, she couldn’t make the lethal sneak attacks that seemed to be her most powerful ability.
The Pack Rat’s heavy backpack of wares made him easy to pick out. It also made him too top-heavy. Martin grabbed him by the tail and yanked as hard as he could. The merchant’s pointed face hit the stone floor with a crunch.
[Pack Rat suffers 3 bludgeoning environmental damage]
A quick thrust finished the prone rat-man off.
[Pack Rat suffers 16 piercing damage]
Pack Rat has died.
Skaife gains 180 experience.
Rabid Ratmen
7/10 Murovan deserters slain
His first mistake had been treating Strata like it was real – and acting like he was really in danger – but his second mistake was in treating it like any other game. Swinging away constantly with his weapon, using every ability the moment it came off cooldown; those might have worked in other games, but Strata demanded more.